


Not Like a Cinema

by hanekawa



Category: Kamen Rider Den-O, Kamen Rider W | Masked Rider Double
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanekawa/pseuds/hanekawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Philip lands in DenLiner. Accidentally. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like a Cinema

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2011.08.07 [here.](http://mi-key.livejournal.com/53340.html#cutid2)

  
.

.

“Um,” Ryotaro says nervously.

“It’s not my fault, though.” Ryutaros says.

“You damn kid, you still dare to deny it?!” Momotaros growls.

“Well,” Philip says, “actually—”

“It must be _love_ , senpai.” Urataros drawls. “One can’t help being reeled in when it comes to love.”

“No, really.” Ryotaro says. “I don’t think it has to do with love at all. In fact—”

“It’s totally *not* my fault.” If imagins could pout, Ryutaros would definitely be pouting right about now.

“Technically,” Philip begins, “It’s—”

“One also can’t help being devious and resort to lowly means when it comes to _love_.” Urataros continues to drawl. “After all, all is fair in war and love~”

“You actually kidnapped him?!” Momotaros growls louder, nearly choking Ryutaros with one hand while his other hand’s pointed at Philip direction.

“Momotaros!” Ryotaro tries to pry Momotaros’ hand from around Ryutaros’ neck—to no avail. “No fighting in the train car!”

“Senpai, honestly.” Urataros says, “you’re not giving a good example by resorting to violence at every given moment.”

“Not my fault! Stupid Momo! Not my fault! Stupid Momo! Stupid Momo!” Ryutaros shouts.

“I’ll _show_ you a good example!” Momotaros screams. And then proceeds to choke Ryutaros with _both_ hands.

“Momotaros! Ryutaros! Stop it!” Ryotaro tries to separate them—only to have his back slammed against the seating, as he accidentally gets elbowed aside. And then he tries to right himself by reaching for the table, only to have a cup of warm coffee hit him on the head, spilling the content all over his hair while the cup crashing onto the floor. “Ow!”

Philip blinks. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, I’m okay, it’s—okay.” Ryotaro says, rubbing his eyes, as a few drops of coffee manage to get in. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.” He tries to stand—only to slip on the puddle of spilled coffee and fall on his back, dangerously close to repeating the whole thing all over again.

“How interesting.” Philip says, creeping closer, eyes sparkling in interest. “Are you really okay?”

Ryotaro waves a hand dismissively. “No, really. It’s okay. I really mean it when I say I’m used to it.”

“ _’Used to it’_? So you mean this kind of thing happens regularly?” Philip drops onto his knees in front of Ryotaro, unconsciously leaning closer to Ryotaro with every word, “how does that work? Does it really happen anywhere, anytime? Or is there any specific condition for this kind of thing to happen? How are you even _still_ alive?”

“Um,” Ryotaro says, his cheeks heating up. Because of the hot coffee earlier. Yes. It must be it. And not at all because the other boy’s face is right in front of his face, with their noses nearly touching. Of course not. “Um.” Ryotaro says again, laughing nervously.

…it’s then he realizes just how quiet the Denliner dinner car had become. He blinks.

When he looks over Philip’s shoulder, he sees the previously quarreling imagins are now completely silent, with their eyes trained over both him and Philip in interest.

“…what are you guys doing?”

“No, really.” Urataros says. “Please, do continue. Just pretend we’re not here. At all.”

Momotaros coughs.

Ryotaro stares at them.

Philip keeps looking at Ryotaro in fascination.

“Aren’t you going to kiss?” Ryutaros asks.

Ryotaro’s eyes widen. “K-kis-kis—s?” he stutters.

“Hm?” Philip says, turning to look over his shoulder. When he looks back at Ryotaro, he tilts his head to the side slightly, causing his long bangs to frame his face, and. And there’s this—this wondering look upon his eyes, which is just—

Ryotaro’s breath catches.

“Does it mean after such accidents, you always have somebody to kiss your wounds better?” Philip asks curiously. But before Ryotaro could stutter a reply, Philip continues, “can I try it?”

“Er,” Ryotaro says, because. Um. He desperately looks over Philip ‘s shoulder, only to see Urataros giving him thumbs up, Momotaros looking like he wants to be anywhere but here, and Ryutaros watching him intently with his hands folded under his chin, looking very much like he is desperately wishing for a bucket of popcorn.

Ryotaro’s ears _burn_.

And then Philip leans forward, eyes closed, and Ryotaro is running out of excuses to not just accept—

The train suddenly lurches. As they’re thrown off balance, Philip ends up sprawling all over Ryotaro, while his forehead accidentally hits Ryotaro’s chin, which is just—ow.

Just then, the door slides open, admitting Hana and Naomi—both holding two bags of what looks like groceries.

Hana blinks. “…what are you doing?” but before Ryotaro could even think of a reply, her eyes land on Philip, and she blinks again. “And you are…?”

“It’s not my fault!” Ryutaros exclaims. “Stupid Momo!”

Hearing Ryutaros’s exclamation, the other Imagins seem to remember what they were arguing about earlier. “You were the one who brought him here! You lying little—“

“As I’ve stated before, senpai, it’s clearly love what prompt—“

“Stupid Momo! Not my fault! Stupid Mo—“

“Momotaros! Stop disturbing the other customers! You too, Ryuta!”

“Come here, you damn brat—“

\--on and on they go. As Ryotaro tries to think up a way to break the fight, he hears Philip lets out a little giggle on top of him.

“It’s so lively here, isn’t it?” Philip gives him a dimpled smile. “I _like_ it.”

At that, Ryotaro can’t help but smile back at him. “Yeah. Me too.”

All the while, Kintaros keeps sleeping peacefully in the corner of the room.

.

.


End file.
